


pray for us sinners

by youremyqueen



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, M/M, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light spans every category of supernatural being and L tries not to be hungry. Vampire AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pray for us sinners

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr. written for xforestofinkx, who asked for: vampire au, physical ailments, angels / demons / fallen angels.

"I’m a messenger of God," Light tells L as he bites him, but L passes out from blood loss, pulse slowing with a heavy thrum until it stops altogether, before he finds out what the message is.

He wakes in a cramped and overly sparse apartment with curtained windows and nothing in the kitchen except for bags of blood and tea. Light comes home as L is trying to pick the lock that keeps him in, smiles like ugly daybreak, and hands him a fresh corpse. L bites it, sucks its blood, falls raggedly against the doorframe groping his way through every artery on the man’s body, young and bone white in an unkempt suit, until it’s all gone dry and his head is pounding with a devouring, satiated high.

He sits there, eyes locked on the blank wall opposite him, as Light cleans the blood from his face with antibacterial wipes, and eventually says, “I’m a vampire.”

Light tilts his chin up, scrubbing down his neck. “You’re my disciple,” he corrects, smoothly, like night poured, oozing and dark, in a glass and then drunk down.

"Oh," L says flatly, but what he means is _shit_.

\---

"You’re not an angel," L tells him, shortly after figuring out that this latest case - in the slums of Tokyo, investigating serial instances of exsanguination - has landed him in a tenuous partnership with not only a vampire, but a criminally delusional one.

Light puts a hand to his chest, stopping him. They’re stalking their prey through the crowded Shibuya streets, an act which L would not partake of if he wasn’t somewhat delirious from the hunger strike that he’s been on for the past week.

"Maybe that’s not the right word," Light says. "The word doesn’t matter, but the point is that God has given me these powers so that I can use them to improve the world, slay the evil, and protect the good, just as his angels are purported to do."

L’s about to bring up the very valid point that Light is a vampire, which, definitionally, is a very different creature of superstition than an angel, but he stops short as they turn a corner into a dirty back alley - the same sort that L himself had been killed in - and says, “Hey, you slayed me. I know I’m not the pinnacle of ethical uprightness, but evil? I think I’m insulted by the simplification.”

Light shushes him as they move in on their query, but continues the conversation in low tones. “I turned you,” he corrects, “I didn’t kill you.”

"And what does that mean about my moral standing?" L huffs dully.

Light holds up a finger, putting off his answer until after he sweeps down into the alley, slashes the throat of the man brandishing a knife at a terrified young woman while proclaiming his love for her, and takes a deep drink from his wound. The woman doesn’t scream, doesn’t say anything, just stares wide-eyed at Light for several frozen seconds before turning and running in her impractical shoes back into the crowded main street.

As he finishes the first course, Light hands the corpse off to L, and says, picking up where they’d left off, “It means that you’re evil, but I like you, anyway.”

L takes the body; he drinks, sating his hunger and committing to the role that Light has cast him in.

\---

Months later, after the foolishly righteous dance of protecting the apparently innocent and devouring the perceivably wicked has been learned and perfected between them, they are pressed to the bed in their shit apartment, grappling with each other’s clothes, moving against each other’s bodies in a heady rhythm - an act which is by now also routine - and Light leans down and whispers to L, in his unassumingly boyish simper, “You were right, I’m not an angel. I was never an angel.”

He comes then, choking on the words, _“I’m God.”_ L hears them clearly anyway.


End file.
